


To Sleep Again in One's Own Bed

by radondoran



Category: Mario & Luigi: Dream Team
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant With End Credits Montage, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8166086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radondoran/pseuds/radondoran
Summary: Try and get some rest.  As if he'd done hardly anything but sleep lately.





	

Luigi usually slept on airplanes—or, as in this case, dirigibles—not to mention buses, submarines, spaceships, chariots, you name it. Restless as he was today, the ride home seemed to be taking forever.

There wasn't anything to do but twiddle his thumbs, or straighten his hat, or tweak idly at the ends of his mustache. He supposed he could try to get a game of I Spy going, something like that, to pass the time, but he didn't much feel like chatting. His throat was still a little raw, probably from doing all that sneezing in his sleep; and besides, there across from Mario and the Princess he'd probably just have been a third wheel anyway.

Even as it was Mario kept giving him this really strange look. All that fidgeting must have been getting annoying. Luigi folded his arms tight; his foot started jiggling instead, and he had to stand up and pace the deck.

Mario joined him later where he'd taken up a position aft, leaning on the wall of the basket and watching a fluffy white cloud near the horizon. It was nice. It was quiet. In the dreamy atmosphere Luigi scarcely even noticed the dizzying height.

What he did notice, after a moment or two, was that Mario wasn't watching the clouds, but watching _him_ again.

He looked back, questioning.

Mario made a "come here" gesture, like he wanted to whisper something. But when Luigi bent down, Mario just took him by the shoulders and, leaning in close enough to nudge both their caps askew, touched Luigi's forehead with his own.

Big bro's so cool, Luigi thought. Literally this time.

And now he recognized that look in Mario's eyes. A little... worried? Not worried, not Mario. A little concerned, maybe, watchful—but calm too, determined, like he knew exactly what to do and was resolved to do it: the way Mario always looked when there was trouble.

The bros straightened, fixing their hats in an automatic, synchronized gesture. Mario gave Luigi that look for a moment, then leaned on the basket looking out again.

_Mamma mia_ , he was so good at this. It it had been anybody else in Mario's place right now... The Princess, so sweet and so kind, but she'd probably say something obvious like "Oh! You're burning up!" or "You poor dear, come and sit down—we must find some tea—Toadsworth!" And Toadsworth would probably try to institute a quarantine or something. Luigi himself too, for that matter, if Mario was sick he'd be freaking out, he knew he would.

But Mario was cool in every way. He didn't make a fuss, didn't say anything to anybody—just stayed there by his side watching the clouds in the dreamy quiet.

And when they finally, finally docked at the castle, Mario somehow dodged the admiring crowds and hustled him off to their room, where he left him alone to try and get some rest.

As if he'd done hardly anything but sleep lately.... Not that most of it had been particularly restful; not that Luigi felt any the less exhausted for it. But then, he couldn't seem to get any rest now either. He could conk out in no time flat on a petrified Pi'illo in the blazing desert sun, but his own pillow seemed wrong no matter how he turned it. The blankets stifled and strangled him and still he couldn't get warm. And whenever he did manage to drift off, he kept jolting awake again with all his nerves on edge, as if from terrible nightmares that he couldn't even remember.

That part made sense, since the dream world wasn't as vivid here—really, this far from the Pi'illo Kingdom maybe it didn't even make sense to think in terms of a dream "world", exactly. But that vagueness couldn't be the problem. Gosh, he wouldn't want to dream like that all the time. The puzzles, the battles, jumping in and out of Luiginary Works all the time—it was really too much excitement, especially for sleeping. And on the island his dreams had ended up being so _crowded!_ How was anybody supposed to relax with so many people around? Antasma, Bowser, Kamek—make that four Kameks, which was about five too many—the Princess, the fake princess, all those yappy little Luiginoids... Not to mention Prince Dreambert with his tutorials always following...

_—Mario!_

Luigi was sitting upright now staring wildly into the darkness, his breath coming in quick gasps—panicking because he couldn't find Mario. That was it.

His eyes stung hotly with fear or fever or frustration. Of course. Somehow he must have gotten used to it.... To having Mario by his side even in the dream world.... And now... He was about to cry, and he hated himself for it.

And that just made it worse. A sharp breath broke through the tightness in his throat, and the tears started to flow freely down his cheeks. He drew his knees up to his chest, wanting to bury his face in them, to curl up tight upon his miserable self; and in doing so, noticed the weight of some small object atop the rumpled blankets.

Automatically Luigi picked it up and looked at it. A damp folded cloth. It must have fallen when he'd sat up. He brought a hand to his forehead: sure enough, the cool touch still lingered. There was a bowl of water on the bedside table, too, which hadn't been there before. He must have managed to sleep for at least a little while, for Mario to do this without him noticing.

That's right. Mario had done this. Mario had been here. Mario was keeping an eye on him same as always.

Luigi had awoken with his own heartbeat pounding in his ears; now, the room was so nice and quiet. He wiped his eyes with the cool cloth, then set it in the bowl and turned over to go back to sleep.


End file.
